


All The Wounds You Can't See

by BrenIsntHome (NicoGreyjoy)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Autistic Caleb Widogast, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Caleb is technically a sorcerer AU, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Depression, Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It Gets Darker Before It Gets Better Folks, Mighty Nein as Family, Nonbinary Character, Protective Everyone, Self-Harm, Sexual Assault, Trans Caleb Widogast, Trans Character, Transphobia, Trent Ikithon is his own warning, nothing super explicit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29242485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoGreyjoy/pseuds/BrenIsntHome
Summary: Caleb has always dealt with things on his own, never asking for help. He's not even sure he knows how to ask for help in the first place should he even want it. Life hasn't been kind to him and he doesn't know how to do anything except expect the worst from everyone he meets.But then The Mighty Nein come along.
Relationships: The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 51
Kudos: 109





	1. The Before

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. My brain had an idea and I ran with it. This gets darker before it gets better, y'all. One day I'll write something with zero angst or trauma but today is not that day. 
> 
> **Just an overall Trigger Warning for everything that is in the tags

Bren couldn't understand why he wasn't allowed to wear the dress to school. Plenty of other kids in the tiny schoolhouse in Blumenthal wore dresses, but his teacher had taken one look at him and her face turned red with anger. 

"Go home and change!" the woman had ordered after refusing to allow him into the classroom. 

"B-But..."

He didn't want to change. The dress was blue (his current favorite color) and his mama had embroidered tiny white kittens on it. There was even a matching ribbon that his mama used to carefully tie off the ends of his braids. Bren didn't want to change because he had been so excited to wear this on the first day back to school after the brief break his teacher had given them for the holidays. 

"Now! I won't have any of this foolishness in my classroom."

Bren frowned. "But what is foolish about a dress?" 

He truly couldn't understand why his teacher, who was normally so kind and gentle with Bren and the other kids, was so angry with him. What did Bren do wrong?

"OUT!" she exclaimed and pointed towards the door. 

Bren could feel the tears welling in his eyes and his lip trembling as he turned and ran from the school, the angry mutterings of his teacher and the laughter from the other children followed him out of the door. 

He didn't end up going home. He didn't want his parents to be angry with him for leaving school, like the one time Astrid and Eodwulf had talked him into exploring the creek in the woods instead of attending lessons. Bren liked school and he wanted to be _in school._ But his teacher had said no and he didn't know what to do, so he sat behind the bushes outside of the building all day and waited for his mama to come walk him home like she always did. 

Later, after Una Ermendrud found Bren still crying behind the bushes, she had told Bren to wait outside while she marched herself into the building. There was a lot of yelling, and a lot of words that Bren wasn't supposed to ever repeat. But whatever his mother had been yelling about seemed to work because the next day when she walked him to school (in the purple dress this time, but also with more cats), he was moved into the other classroom for children his age, the one with Astrid and Eodwulf. And the other teacher said nothing about his dress, just smiled and welcomed him to her room. 

Bren liked this classroom better.

-

As Bren gets a little older he starts to get the sneaking suspicion that he's not _supposed_ to wear his dresses. He still doesn't quite understand why it's such a big deal to everyone, but it seems like it is. His parents, ever supportive, don't seem bothered on the days when he comes downstairs wearing one instead of the pants and shirts that the other boys wear, but he can tell they grow a little concerned whenever he leaves the house in them. 

The adults in town look at him with confusion and disapproval, sometimes disgust. Then they look at his parents and glare, shaking their heads. The children tend to follow their parents' leads and make fun of him. Especially the other boys. 

Bren tries not to care because it shouldn't matter. 

It still hurts....

He starts wearing pants more often, even on the days when they feel _wrong wrong wrong_ , because sometimes it's easier to not have to deal with the constant laughing and pointing and dirty looks. 

Bren stops wearing them entirely when an older boy who had already left school to begin working corners him between buildings one day and shoves his hands under his dress. The blue one with the white cats that his mother had altered to grow with him because he loved it so much. Bren is terrified and doesn't understand what's happening. 

The boy is eventually thrown away from him when Bren can bring himself to scream and a burst of energy surges outwards, slamming him into the bricks and knocking the older boy unconscious. 

Bren runs. 

He doesn't tell his father who finds him sitting on the ground hours later, shivering and confused, what happened with the boy. Or the strange energy. 

He doesn't tell his mother when they get home.

Bren buries the blue dress at the bottom of his wardrobe so he doesn't have to look at it anymore. And the rest of his dresses sit untouched.

-

He spends a lot of time on his own after that. Reading every book about magic and arcana and history that he can get his hands on, trying to figure out what happened that day with the boy. 

_He tries not to think too hard about what happened that day, though._

Bren has magic. He can feel it thrumming under his skin. 

Come to think of it, he had always been able to feel it. He had always felt like he was missing _something_. But it wasn't until that day that he realized what that something was, and now he is determined to learn. To wield the magic he can feel humming inside him, begging to be released. 

_And to keep people like that boy away from him,_ a smaller voice inside him whispers. 

In a matter of weeks he can do basic tricks, like creating lights in his room so he can read at night long after he's supposed to be sleeping. He can summon flames in his hand just by thinking about them. Unfortunately, the more he uses his magic, the closer is gets to the surface. And occasionally it bursts out of him in unpredictable ways, which is how his parents find out. 

His mama and papa cry out in shock and panic when he accidentally sets a curtain on fire. Bren starts crying because he didn't mean to do it and this is not how he wanted to tell his parents about his magic. 

But the fire is quickly put out and there is no screaming and yelling or punishments, just his father gently hushing him. 

"It is alright, liebling. You didn't mean to do it, ja? This just means you have to practice more so we don't, you know, burn the whole house down." 

Bren vows to practice harder than ever to try and gain some semblance of control over his magic, and he does to a certain degree. But magic..... _his magic....._ is still a wild force that doesn't always appreciate being reigned in. 

But he will try, so he doesn't end up burning their house down. 

-

By the time Bren is twelve years old he has read every book on magic he has at least four times and can cast some spells fairly easily. His mother and father do their best to get him more books, for study material, but they are not rich. Money is often tight. Bren knows this, so he does not ask for new things, but thanks them when they surprise him with a gift that they most certainly did not have the extra gold for. 

However, the book he finds one day during his twelfth year is not a gift or borrowed or bargained for. It is an old book with a back cover that is practically falling off, and it's contents are written in a combination of Elvish and language that Bren has only managed to learn a few words in from his other reading. The cover has a symbol he has never seen before; two crested moons resting atop a four pointed star. Bren finds it wrapped in a cloth and placed in a wooden box in the woods behind his home. 

Obviously, whoever put this here didn't want the book to be found. Bren himself probably wouldn't have found it if it wasn't for the soft breeze that blew as soon as he neared the hollow stump. 

If it wasn't for the whisper of _look_ that came with it.

Opening the front cover, he sees a slightly faded illustration. An illustration of what is possibly the most beautiful......woman? Man? Person? That Bren has ever seen, surrounded by arcane symbols and words he can't understand. They are blonde and elven, and something about them draws Bren in. 

_For you,_ the voice whispers again, and Bren glances around nervously, unable to figure out who- or what- is talking to him. Yet for some reason, he is not afraid of the voice. 

"I....I cannot read this," he says softly, fingers tracing the old pages. 

_You will learn._

And Bren does learn. 

Along with his native Zemnian, he becomes proficient enough Common, and Celestial, and Sylvan, and Elvish. All through self-study.

 _And also through talking to the voice._ Who is not just a voice. Bren doesn't dare share the book with anyone, nor does he talk to anyone about hearing their voice. Not even his parents. Because Bren is smart and he knows that what he is doing is illegal. The Empire is strict when it comes to deities, and the Archeart is not on their approved list of Gods to worship. It doesn't stop him though. 

Corellon is his friend. At least, Bren thinks they are his friend. He doesn't really have friends. Well, there is Astrid and Eodwulf, but they haven't spent much time together in many months and they often forget about him. But Corellon is always there. Bren can speak to them whenever he wants and he hardly ever feels alone anymore. He rambles away to them about anything and everything, knowing that they are listening even if there isn't always a response. Magic, languages, history, what he did that day. Bren is sure that if anyone ever walked in on him they would think he's crazy, talking to thin air as he is. 

One day in early spring, Bren's mother orders him to clean and organize his room, as well as bring down all his old things he doesn't wear anymore. Bren finds the blue dress with the white kittens at the bottom of his wardrobe. 

It brings up so many emotions. Fear, shame, and disgust. But on the other hand there are good memories too.

Memories of days when he woke up feeling more like his mother than his father and could just put something like this on when he felt like it and not worry. When he could run around with the other boys near where he lived and play knights and dragons while wearing ribbons in his hair, because _of course_ Ser Gerald the Strong can wear ribbons, why can't a man wear ribbons? They look nice!

He isn't sure how long he sits there stuck in his memories, running his fingers over the soft material. It must be some time because the sun is much lower in the sky when he can finally bring himself to start talking. 

"Is there something wrong with me?"

There is silence.

And then there is a gentle breeze that comes through his open window, bringing the scent of flowers and spring. He feels a gentle spark of magic that is not his own brushing up against him. It is warm and comforting and Bren never wants the feeling to end. 

_You are perfect as you are._

That night Bren's parents are pleasantly surprised to see him happier than he has been in months when he comes down for supper. His mother complements him on the intricate braid with a purple ribbon entwined in it that he managed to do by myself.

Bren smiles. 

-

A man from the Soltryce Academy passes through Blumenthal and hears about Bren. He comes to visit their home and asks Bren to tell him about what he has learned so far and to demonstrate his abilities. Bren is nervous to say the least, but performs everything he has learned thus far perfectly. The man is thoroughly impressed and compliments Bren on his ability to learn this much on his own.

Bren is glowing at the praise.

Then the man asks if he can speak to Bren alone, and his parents say of course, excusing themselves and leaving Bren alone with the man. 

"You'll be able to properly study magic. You'll have access to things you wouldn't otherwise be able to learn."

"Ja- I mean yes, I know."

"I see great talent in you Bren. However..." the man trails off, an uncomfortable expression on his face as he gives the boy a once over. 

"Yes?" Bren asks, shifting uncomfortably as the man studies him. 

The man clears his throat. "At the Soltryce Academy, we have certain....expectations of our students. These include the way our students dress and conduct themselves both on and off campus. We can't have our students sullying our reputation. Do you understand, Bren?" 

Bren looks down at himself, sees the skirt he had felt like wearing today. He reaches up and tugs at briefly at his braid, hears the slight jingling of the bracelets on his wrist as he does so. 

Yes, he understands perfectly what this man is trying to tell him. He feels a warm breeze in the room despite all the windows being closed to ward of the chill and feels anger that doesn't belong to him. The man must feel it too, even if he doesn't know what it is, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat across from Bren. 

"Well, do you understand, boy?" the man asks again after Bren doesn't reply. 

Bren flinches at his tone, and at the word "boy", if he's being honest. Which he shouldn't have, he guesses. He _is_ a boy after all, even if he likes to wear dresses sometimes. But the word still feels....wrong. Especially coming from this man. 

"Y-Yes sir," he whispers, staring at floor as his lower lip begins trembling. 

"Good! That's good," the man claps, standing up and brushing imaginary dirt off his clothing. "We leave in four days. Do be ready by then. I'll come for you early in the morning and we'll be on our way to Rexxentrum." 

His parents are ecstatic as the man leaves, hugging Bren and congratulating him. His mother rushes off to begin cooking a celebratory dinner. 

Bren doesn't know if he's excited anymore.

-

They cut his hair when he arrives at the academy. They give him clothes that feel wrong and rub harshly against his skin. 

He wants to go home.

Bren can't go home because everyone is expecting him to do well. He can't back out.

He ends up rooming with three other boys near his age. One of them is Eodwulf, who was also chosen to come study. His roommates fall asleep easily, exhausted after an exciting first day. Bren hides under his blankets, hand clasped over his mouth in an attempt to muffle his sobs.

A ghostly hand rests on his back for most of the night, moving up and down until he finally cries himself to sleep.

-

Master Ikithon is an archmage of the Cerberus Assembly, he doesn't typically deal with younger students like Bren. But Bren has noticed him in many of his classes, during his practicums, sometimes even just watching him study. 

He begins to compliment Bren's work. Begins to offer him extra lessons. H sneaks him books that are typically off-limits to the younger, less-experiences students. Master Ikithon talks to Bren like he is an adult and seems to value his opinions and thoughts on many subjects, smiling and nodding as Bren rambles about what he has learned in his classes and his interpretation of things. 

Bren is even invited to his office sometimes and allowed to read Master's Ikithon's personal collection, to watch him work. 

"You're special, Bren. Very special. I've met very few students who have as much potential as you do." A warm feeling spreads through Bren as he soaks up the archmage's praise. "Yes, I think you'll do nicely Bren. You and the other two from your hometown."

"Um....I do not understand what you mean, Master," Bren says, confused. 

Ikithon smiles, a smile that made the hair on the back of Bren's neck stand up. But he didn't run or panic, because this is Master Ikithon and of course Bren can trust him. 

"How would you like to become my student?"

"Y-Your student?"

Ikithon chuckles. "Yes, my student. You are learning much here at the academy, yes. But your talents are being wasted here. You are much farther ahead than students your age, possibly even farther ahead than older students who have been here for years. You must be incredibly bored."

Bren bites his lip. He is kind of bored....

Ikithon chuckles again. "I can teach you so much more than what they can teach you here. I can make you great. I can give you....power. Don't you want that, Bren? To be powerful, to be a mage your parents can be proud of?"

"Yes!" he answers without thinking. "I....I very much want that, Master Ikithon."

The older man smiles as he stands up from behind his desk, walking over to Bren. "Good boy, Bren. I knew you would make the right decision." Ikithon's hand is on his shoulder as he smiles at Bren. "Come now, we should join your classmates for dinner. Hopefully young Astrid and Eodwulf will agree to study with us."

"Yes, Master Ikithon," Bren replies obediently, and allows himself to be led out of his office and down the hall. 

Bren shoves down the weird feelings that Ikithon's smile and tone had given him during the meeting. He forces himself to ignore the way Ikithon's hand never leaves his shoulder, his back, just lingering uncomfortably. Or how the man sits incredibly close to him despite being there to talk to Astrid and Eodwulf (who bother readily agree to become Ikithon's students, just as Bren had). 

He even ignores the worried whispering of his friend in the back of his mind trying to get his attention. 

Bren wants to be stronger. He needs to be stronger in order to make his family proud. 

He ignores the way Master Ikithon squeezes his thigh. 

-

Master Ikithon moves the them to a house in the country, not too far from Blumenthal. "For privacy," he says, "and to prevent other students from becoming jealous."

The training is harsh, but Bren endures. 

He stays up late into the night studying, practicing, memorizing. Sometimes Master Ikithon praises him for his hard work like he used to at The Academy. Sometimes he tells Bren how special he is, how strong he is, how he's a _good boy._ Bren is still uncomfortable with being called "boy", that much has not changed in the year since he left Blumenthal to study magic. But he doesn't dare correct Master Ikithon. 

Because he is not the same man Bren met at The Academy. 

Master Ikithon is different now that they are at his house in the country. He is sharper, quick to anger, harsh in his lessons and even harsher in his punishments. He is especially angry when Bren's magic strikes out of it's own accord. Master Ikithon says that magic needs to be a controlled force, collected and calculated. He says that Bren needs to tame the wildness within him otherwise he'll never be able to be a true mage. What kind of magic user can't control their own magic? Pathetic. Has Bren not been paying attention to anything that Master Ikithon has been teaching him? 

Bren's face burns as red as his hair with shame. It burns red with the force of Master Ikithon's slap when he gets mad at Bren for crying. 

Bren learns not to cry. 

He doesn't cry when they aren't allowed to sleep or eat until they can perform the spell or ritual Master gives them. He learns to pinch himself awake and ignore the gnawing pain in his stomach. 

He doesn't cry when it's his turn to be used as a demonstration for the effects of cantrips and spells. He doesn't cry when it's Astrid's or Eodwulf's turn and he's the one aiming spells at them. 

Bren bites his tongue and doesn't scream when his bones are snapped and he has to learn how to mend them. Doesn't cry out when blades and other sharp objects are hurled at him and he has to stitch the skin back together. 

Bren tries not to cry when Master Ikithon demonstrates torture and information extraction strategies on them, but more often than not he or Astrid or Eodwulf are reduced to screaming, begging messes. He thinks Master must enjoy it, the more they beg the worse it hurts. The longer it goes on. The harder it is to mend themselves afterward because Master is certainly not going to waste his magic on healing them. 

When Bren is dragged to the basement of the house for the first time and asked to demonstrate what he has learned on a man who Master says is a traitor to the empire, he isn't so much as sad or horrified as he is relieved that for once it's not him. 

He still throws up that night, sobbing in his room long after Master dismisses him and calls for Eodwulf. 

-

It hurts.

Bren is trapped on the table, unable to break out of Hold Person, there is a gag in his mouth. 

He screams as the scalpel makes precise cuts deep into his arm, as crystals are shoved into the open wounds and sealed up. 

It hurts it hurts it hurts _please make it stop make it stop make it stop he just wants to go home...._

It is the night of fourteenth birthday. 

He wonders what today would have been like if he had refused the man's offer two years ago. 

Another cut. Another crystal.

Bren can't think anymore. 

-

They are allowed to take a few days off from studying and training after the first round of crystals are implanted. Bren thinks this might be the first act of kindness they received from Master in two years. 

He wants to spend the next days in his room alone, but his hopes are dashed when he receives summons from Master Ikithon. Hesitantly, Bren makes his way to the study and stands at attention before Ikithon.

"Ah, Bren! There you are. Come, I have a gift for you." 

Bren is frozen in place, because surely this is a trick. It has to be a trick. Why would Master purchase a gift for him? 

Ikithon grows impatient at Bren's reluctance to come forward. "Now, Bren," he orders. 

Bren hurries to stand next to the desk. On the hard surface in front of him is.......a dress? He feels all the color drain from his face. "M-Master...?" 

Ikithon smirks and Bren can feel his heart starting to race. Is he in trouble? Does Master know about his.....about how he used to be before coming here? Is he going to be punished? 

"Don't look so shocked, Bren. It's your birthday. It's only right that I get you a gift. After all, you've certainly earned it. You've done exceptionally well, lately."

Bren's mind is conflicted. Part of him melts at the praise that he so desperately craves from this man, while the other part of him recoils in fear. Because there is always a catch with Master. He would not get Bren a gift and expect nothing in return. 

"I heard from the man who recruited you that you were quite fond of dresses and ribbons and shiny things," Ikithon continues, and Bren feels like he's going to be sick. "So I took the liberty of purchasing one in your size. Do you like it, Bren?"

This has to be a trick.

He has to answer.

"Yes, Master," he says softly. 

Ikithon hums thoughtfully. "Good. Put it on then." 

Bren is shaking now. "Master I-"

"Come now, you're not embarrassed are you? I thought you liked them. Put it on, here. Now. That is an order, Bren." 

Bren doesn't like to talk about the extra sessions he has alone with Master Ikithon. Doesn't like to talk about what he has to do. He avoids answering all the questions Astrid and Eodwulf ask him about it. 

The sick thing is, he thinks, is that he actually feels pretty in the things Master gets for him at first. 

Master always makes him feel guilty about it afterward. 

The extra lessons continue for the next two years in addition to their normal lessons. 

-

Sometimes he tries to talk to his oldest friend. Listens for the whispers, waits for the breeze. For any sign that they are still there.

Bren wouldn't blame them if they're not. Bren is not a good person.

Bren has done terrible things. 

Corellon has been nearly silent since the urgent whispers back at The Academy, back when Master Ikithon had first asked Bren to be his student. Maybe they moved on to a more worthy human. 

Or maybe Bren has been refusing to listen. He isn't sure. 

That night as he's falling asleep, he feels a phantom hand in his hair, feels the familiar breeze and the gentle push of magic against his own. 

_I never left._

_-_

It starts as a normal visit home. In celebration of their impending graduation, Master announced that they could go home and see their families. 

Bren runs into their arms the moment he is through he door, shaking and crying. 

He never wants to let go. 

-

There is fire and screaming. 

There is Master Ikithon whispering in the back of Bren's mind that all traitors to the empire must die. 

There is screaming.

His parents are screaming in the fire that he set.

He set his parents house on fire. They are both still inside. They are still alive as the flames are consuming them.

His father's voice from so long ago. _"It is alright, liebling. You didn't mean to do it, ja? This just means you have to practice more so we don't, you know, burn the whole house down."_

Someone else is screaming now. Bren doesn't know who. He can't breathe. He can't focus. He can't-

Bren screams. He breaks. 


	2. The Lost Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So does anyone else ever think about the fact that Caleb lost 11 years of his life, starting with he was 16. Meaning for those 11 years he didn't have the opportunity to grow and learn and gain life experience like most teenagers/young adults do? Therefore he's probably stunted, emotionally and maturity wise, and when he escaped he was, at least mentally, still a sixteen year old? Or maybe even having regressed even further back because trauma??? So when Nott is talking about Caleb being a "scared little boy" when she first found him, she actually means it because Caleb very much was, essentially, still a traumatized child? And even now that he's learned how to function a bit better, due to all the trauma he's probably still not able to adult the way other adults around him are and is kind of lost and frustrated? Hence Mama Nott being like "that is my boy. Don't you touch him!". 
> 
> Because I do. I think about this sometimes.

Bren spends a long time in a room. 

He sits, he cries, he claws at his arms, he sleeps. 

There are other people there. Some cry like him, some are dressed in bright clothing and walk in and out of rooms, talking to people. Talking to Bren. He can't understand what they're saying. 

He sits, he cries. 

The people in bright clothing sometimes do not watch him. Do not watch any of them. 

He wanders. 

Sometimes a nice person leads him back to his room, talking in a gentle voice. Sometimes they scream and hit him. 

A woman with gray hair comes to see him some days. She tries to get him to speak to her. She brings something for him to hold in his hands. Bren stares, he doesn't understand. He feels like he should be able to make the sounds she's making, knows she wants something from him. The sounds are there, just out of reach. 

It frustrates him and he cries, throwing the object in his hands across the room. 

The woman hushes him and takes him back to his room.

Bren wakes, he sits, he cries, he claws, he wanders, he sleeps. He wakes, he sits, he-

-

Bren doesn't like baths.

The hands on him are rough. They touch him everywhere. 

The tall one hits him when he whines, tells him to shut up. 

Sometimes the baths go on for a long time.

The hands linger in uncomfortable places.

Bren doesn't like baths.

-

There is someone else in his room. A chain hangs from her neck. Bren stares at the necklace, something about it making him feel warm. He's always so, so cold. 

The woman places a hand on his forehead and everything is....

Everything is clearer. Clearer than it has been in years. Bren is still slow and somewhat confused, but he feels more like a person than he has in a long time. He can think, he can force words out of his mouth. He.....remembers why he is here. 

Everything still hurts just a bad.

The woman has fallen back into a fit of hysterical laughter and shrieks, her brief moment of lucidity gone. Two people come in and drag her out, apologizing to Bren as they go and shutting the door behind them. 

Bren understands. He has a lot of time to sit and think. 

He understands what Ikithon did.

He knows that Master is a bad man. Bren knows that he himself is a bad man. 

Bren is scared because he has no where to go, no idea what to do to get himself out of this. There is no one-

_Run. You must run. I will be here. You must run._

He kills a guard, steals their anti-scrying amulet and all their gold, steals clothes from the room where patients are stripped and changed into their hospital attire upon arrival. He steals more gold that has been confiscated from patients, but not yet collected by staff. 

And Bren runs. 

-

The first time Bren sees himself is when a nice couple on a farm take pity on him and let him spend the night in their spare room. There's a mirror mounted on the wall above the small table, and Bren stands there, just staring.

A man with wild, messy hair and hollow blue eyes stares back. Pale and gaunt, with a fearful expression on his face. 

Bren doesn't recognize this person. 

He reaches up a shaky hand and touches the beard that is growing on his face. He has a beard.

He's so much older than he remembers, a full-grown man. It doesn't feel like it. He doesn't remember growing up. He still feels like same Bren he was at sixteen. But he is not sixteen anymore, he is an adult. A man....

Bren lets out a hysterical sounding laugh as he continues staring at his reflection. 

Who is this person? Because is certainly can't be him. Everything about this feels wrong, so very wrong. But he can't fix it, can he? Bren is the one who made things this way, it's all Bren's fault. The only reason any of this happened is because of choices Bren made. 

He can't make this better.

-

Bren stops calling himself Bren. 

That's the name his parents gave him. He doesn't deserve to use that name anymore.

He is nothing. 

-

He doesn't know long he spends on his own, wandering, never stopping. Never daring to rest in one place for more than a few days lest Master- no, not Master. He shouldn't call him that anymore. He is not his master. Ikithon. He does not stay in one place longer than he has to so Ikithon cannot find him. The anti-scrying necklace gives him some sense of security, but he is always haunted by the thought of Ikithon figuring out how to find him anyway. 

It is Ikithon. The man is capable of many things. Getting around an anti-scrying is most likely one. 

He doesn't want to think about what will happen if they find him. 

It's cold. 

Winter is settling in over The Empire. By now he has traveled further south, away from what was turning out to be a true Zemnian Winter, as they called them. But it is still cold. The clothing he stole was not made to withstand temperatures this low. He doesn't have money for an inn, and he feels too tired and slow to break in somewhere without being caught in the act. 

He is cold, he is hungry, he is tired. 

He just wants to go home. He wants his mother and father.

 **You destroyed everything,** his mind hisses at him.

 _It was not your fault,_ a softer voice that is not his says. 

-

Sometimes when curls up at night in the forest, trying to stay warm, he feels so very alone.

He doesn't deserve companionship. Not after all he's done. This is his punishment. 

He feels a burst of magic, he doesn't think it's his. Ikithon had beat him enough times for letting his magic lash out. He could control it. Then who-

He hears the faint whispering of his only friend in the back of his mind. He doesn't understand why Corellon is still here, even after all this time. 

There's a sudden puff of smoke in front of him and he tenses, bracing to defend himself. When the smoke clears there is......a cat? A very obvious fey cat, to anyone who has experience with them. It gives a soft "mrrp" and prances over to him, head butting him and purring aggressively. 

Ikithon had not allowed him to cast Find Familiar during training. He had seen him reading about it one day and told him it was a waste of time. 

He did not cast it this time either, but here it was. 

Hesitantly, he reaches out and strokes the soft fur of the cat, almost afraid that it was going to disappear. That he would somehow hurt this creature too. 

The cat responds by hopping into his lap, making biscuits into his pants for a moment before curling up and purring, its tongue sticking out in a content blep. 

Maybe he isn't so alone. 

-

The cat is still there when he wakes up the next day, curled into his side. He half expected it to take off and search for a better mage to bond with, but there he is, waiting for him to wake up.

He decides to name him "Frumpkin", after the stray cat his mother used to feed every day.

-

The hunger wins out one day. He steals food, he is caught, they throw him in jail. 

It is dark and cold. He wants Frumpkin.

Frumpkin doesn't deserve to be summoned to a place like this. He will endure. 

He curls up in the far corner of the cell, trying to make himself as small as possible. Somehow it's colder inside than it was outside. Another violent tremor passes through his body and he whimpers. He doesn't like this place. He tries to take a deep breath to calm himself, but the only thing he succeeds in doing in igniting a coughing fit. His chest burns, ribs aching with the force of his coughs.

Maybe he'll die here. It's what he deserves. 

He feels a small hand on his back and nearly jumps out of his skin. 

A pair of bright, yellow eyes stare at him from the darkness, but he can't stop coughing or shaking long enough to move away. 

"Are you alright?" the voice asks him. 

As his eyes begin to adjust more the darkness, he can see the shape of a small goblin girl. She is kneeling next to him, hand still patting his back in an attempt at comfort. His coughing fit begins to die down, but he is still gasping for breath. His chest hurts. 

"Can you hear me?" she asks, voice sounding....concerned?

She takes her hand off his back and brings it towards his forehead. He flinches back automatically, images of Ikithon's hand cracking down on him filling his mind. He whimpers, curling in on himself tighter. 

_"Bitte,"_ he begs, staring up at her with wide, frightened eyes. 

He hears a sharp intake of breath.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you. I promise." Her small, clawed hand reaches out again and briefly rests on his forehead. He hears her curse, before she calms herself and begins petting his hair. 

-

The next few days pass by in a haze of pain and fever. The little Goblin is still there, she tries to get him to eat and drink, but he mostly just throws it up. He wakes up screaming from nightmares, nightmares about Ikithon, about the asylum, about the boy from Blumenthal, about fire and his parents screams. She holds his hand and shushes him, tries to calm him down.

He begs for his parents to make it all stop. 

She curls up next to him and holds him close. 

Ikithon always told him that goblins are filthy, disgusting creatures that should be executed on sight. He was made to torture and carry out these sentences many times during his time with Ikithon. 

He doesn't feel this way about the goblin in the cell with him. She's too kind. Kinder than any human he has encountered on way south. 

Ikithon is a liar. 

One day there is screaming and thumps when the guards come by to deliver their food and water. He feels the goblin frantically tugging him up.

"Come on! We have to go now!"

He whines. He's so tired, everything hurts. He can barely keep his eyes open. 

"I know, I know," she soothes. "But we have to go. You can go back to sleep later." 

Reluctantly, he forces himself to his feet and stumbles after the small goblin. He has no idea where she is leading him, just clings to her hand and tries not to fall over. There are shouts of other guards behind them, but somehow they manage to make it outside and into the streets.

They run. Run until he physically can't anymore and nearly collapses. 

The goblin manages to drag him into a barn before he completely passes out. 

-

The next time he wakes, his fever has broken and the goblin is trying to get him to sit up and drink water. He's propped up on a bed of hay and old blankets, another scratchy blanket draped over top of him. 

"I was getting worried you weren't going to wake up," she says, ringing her hands nervously. "Are you feeling better?"

He thinks for a moment, fishing around for the right words in his still sleep muddled brain. " _J_ _a,_ I do. Much better, actually," he says, voice hoarse with disuse. When was the last time he actually spoke to someone? "I think, ah, I have you to thank for that?"

Her face flushes a darker green. "Yes, well. I couldn't just let you die, could I?'

"You should have," he says without thinking. 

She stares at him with big, sad eyes.

"No, I should not have." 

-

Her name is Nott, she tells him later that night as they are still curled up in the barn. She asks him for his and he doesn't know what to tell her. 

"I...I do not have one."

"No name? None at all?"

He shakes his head. "People like me don't deserve a name. I am nothing." 

She just looks at him with sad eyes again and pats his head affectionately. "Well, we'll have to fix that won't we?"

He blinks. " _Was?"_

"You know I was always fond of the name Caleb, or Luc. But well, you don't seem much like a Luc, and I have to call you something other than "That Scraggily Human I Picked Up in a Jail Cell". So I'm going to call you Caleb, until you find something you like better. Got it?"

"Caleb," he whispers, testing out the name on his tongue. _"_ I _....ja,_ okay." 

Nott smiles. 

-

Caleb likes Nott. A lot of people are scared of her, but he likes her. And so does Frumpkin, when he summons his cat back for the first time. 

Nott constantly worries after him, making sure he eats, making sure he sleeps, always asking if he's okay. Sometimes she steals little things she thinks Caleb might like and gives them to him, or slips book money into his pocket despite his protests that they can't afford to be spending money on books just because he likes to read. 

She even learns a little Zemnian to talk to him when his mind isn't....working like it should. 

Sometimes he disappears deep into his head and it's hard to find his way back. Nott is patient, sitting there and holding his hand, talking to him about everything and nothing. She doesn't get upset or yell at him when he can't respond, or can't do things right. Not even when he forgets things and needs extra help. Nott is....very kind. 

In return Caleb tries to be good. He tries not to cause too much trouble, he begins to teach her a little magic including "disguise self", so she can walk around more freely without people pointing or attacking them. 

Caleb notices that Nott is far more happy when she does not look like a goblin. When he asks her about this, Nott confesses that she hates being a goblin and wants nothing more than to be someone else. Nott looks like she wants to cry, and Caleb hates it when Nott is sad. 

He promises to change her one day and Nott smiles. 

Caleb likes making Nott happy. 

He doesn't want Nott to leave. 

Sometimes he steals pins, or buttons, or other small trinkets too, just to see her smile. 

-

Caleb is having a bad week. 

Everything feels wrong and he doesn't know how to make it stop. Nott is worried, he doesn't like it when Nott is worried about him. He doesn't like to see her sad. 

She tells him they need to stop for a few days, that maybe he just needs a short break from traveling and he'll feel better. He isn't sure, but he lets Nott lead him into town anyway, clutching her hand tightly in his. 

He feels bad that they have to stop because of him. Nott tells him not to worry, but Caleb still feels bad. 

"I hope they have a lot of booze in Trostenwald," he hears her mutter. 

Nott drinks a lot. Sometimes she shakes if she doesn't drink enough, gets sick. 

Caleb will make sure they find a place she can drink at in Trostenwald, he thinks, as he lets himself be led to the Nestled Nook Inn. 


	3. The Nein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of some of the moments in which the rest of The Mighty Nein all individually realized that something is very wrong. And one moment when they all collectively decided to do a murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly lives in this one because who says we can't we have Molly AND Caduceus.

Caleb isn't sure what to make of their new....friends? He is very much used to it being just him and Nott and, if he's being honest, isn't sure that he wants that to change. They are a loud bunch that draws quite a bit of attention to themselves (and therefore him and Nott). But for some reason Caleb finds himself more intrigued by them, the anything. 

There is Fjord, a half-orc with an accent that sounds pleasant to Caleb's ears. He secretly wishes he would talk more. He is reserved and polite when they first meet, and Caleb can tell that Fjord trusts him and Nott about as much as he trusts Fjord. _Not at all._

Which is fine with Caleb. Trusting people is dangerous. 

Jester is a little blue tiefling who is _extremely talkative_ and excitable, and also likes to draw dicks on things. Her energy stresses him out, just a little. It's just....so much. But Caleb doesn't think she's trying to bother him on purpose. Maybe...

She also has a fey friend! Caleb can see him lingering behind her sometimes. She calls him a God but clearly that is a fey. No, Caleb does not know much about this 'Traveler' who pops in and out and gives him a friendly wave while scritching Frumpkin behind the ears, _but he very much wants to know but he is nervous and doesn't always have the right words so he doesn't ask._ He hears Corellon chuckling amusedly at his reaction to The Traveler and frowns because what is so funny? Caleb doesn't understand. 

Beau is complicated. She is blunt, obnoxious, and prickly, and asks invasive questions that neither him nor Nott wants to answer. Based on her attire, Caleb thinks she must be a monk. _The Cobalt Soul,_ he thinks, staring at the blue color. Ikithon made his dislike of The Cobalt Soul known throughout the entire time Caleb was with him. That didn't stop Caleb from learning what he could about them, though. 

But Frumpkin crawls into the monk's lap easily enough and seems to like her, despite her untrustworthy face and the way she avoids answering all questions while demanding answers from everyone else. So perhaps he is missing something. Perhaps she's not too bad. 

Mollymauk and Yasha burst into his life at the same time. 

Yasha is tall and quiet, hanging back with arms folded. She doesn't seem to be good with words or people either. Caleb understands what that's like and he feels a pang of sympathy. They don't talk much, but she smiles at him and he smiles back. 

He likes Yasha. 

Mollymauk, "Molly to my friends!", is confusing. 

They are a lavender tiefling with an outfit that Caleb can see coming from ten miles away, jewelry and chains decorate their horns. Loud and confident, with worryingly low levels of shame, they are at ease with themselves in a way that Caleb has never been able to be. Looking at them is a little....disconcerting and distressing. Looking at them brings out a sense of longing. For what, Caleb has no idea, but something about them just-

"See something ya like?"

Caleb jumps, eyes wide. 

Molly is leaning across the table, an amused smile on their face. "You've been staring, Mr. Caleb. Is there something on my face I should be concerned about?"

He feels his hands beginning to tremble under the table. Caleb didn't mean to stare, he doesn't always realize he's doing. He was just looking at all the colors and thinking about _how much he used to love colors and shiny things like that until-_

"I....I did not mean...I'm sorry..." he stutters fearfully. 

Maybe it's the way Caleb can barely form words, maybe it's the fearful expression he must be wearing, but whatever Molly sees causes their own expression to soften and they give Caleb a gentle smile, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. 

"Okay," they say simply, turning back to their conversation and not bringing up Caleb's mistake at all. 

Caleb doesn't understand. Mistakes usually come with corrections, except from Nott who is different and doesn't get angry with him. Maybe Molly is different, too?

He hopes so.

-

The dead walk. Caleb sets things on fire. They almost get thrown in jail. 

_He does not want to go back to jail._

They clear their names and are told to leave Trostenwald by the Lawmaster. Which is fine, Caleb does not want to stay here longer than he has to. 

The seven of them leave together. 

Which is.....not exactly fine. 

But Nott says that they should travel with these people, that there is safety in numbers. And that if it gets too much, they can just slip away into the background while these lunatics cause a scene and draw all the attention to themselves. 

Caleb still doesn't feel good about it, doesn't trust these people at all, but Nott seems relatively okay with this new arrangement so he decides to try. 

-

The first time he slips away in front of the group is at the mines outside of Alfield. He sends the fire streaking across the mines and the person burns. He sees the flames climbing higher, he hears the screams, he smells the burning flesh. 

He had to do it. Caleb had to protect Nott.

_And everyone else._

He has to be useful otherwise they won't want to keep him around. Even Nott will grow tired of him now that she has friends who are stronger, better, more capable than he is. So he casts his spell and watches as their enemy burns. 

But it's not just the screaming in the mines.

It's the screaming of the very first man he was told to execute.

It's the woman who had three children at home and begged for her life the entire time she was in the basement. 

It's his mother. It's his father. 

_Everyone is burning and it's his fault-_

_**Slap.** _

The pain in his face shocks him out of his thoughts and he comes to, wild eyed and breathing heavily. Molly is standing in front of him, looking like they are prepared to slap him again. 

"There you are, Caleb. Head in the game! There's time for that later," they say as they press a kiss to his forehead. 

Caleb is still shaking, his face stinging, but he pulls as much as himself together as he can. There are still gnolls, they are still in danger, he can't float away now. There's time for this later, Molly said. 

He doesn't want to get hit again. 

When they exit the mines and begin making their way back into town, Caleb feel's Nott's hand slip into his. Everything still feels a little hazy and not quite real, but he manages to stay upright. While they are walking back he hears Nott whisper, "I got you some book money." Caleb tries to feel excited about this, tries to feel anything besides spacy and panic and cold. But he can't. 

At some point he stumbles, legs feeling shakier and shakier the more he walks. Before he can trip and hit the ground there is someone on his other side, steadying him. "Easy there," comes Molly's familiar lilt. And even though Caleb tries so hard not to, he flinches away from them and barely stops his arm from coming up to block a hit that probably (most likely) wasn't coming. But Molly had already hit him once, hadn't they? It is a reasonable expectation. 

Molly looks hurt by Caleb's reaction.

Maybe it was not the best way to react. Caleb didn't mean to hurt Molly. He wants to tell them that he is sorry but his words aren't working yet, and that makes him feel worse. Caleb presses a little closer to Nott and tries not to look at Molly the rest of the walk. 

That night at the inn, Caleb sits on the end of his bed in his and Nott's room by himself. Nott is still downstairs with the others, drinking and celebrating. She offered to come upstairs with him, but he had shooed her away and told her to have a good time. Nott deserves a nice night. So he sits by himself in their room, shivering and feeling a little spacy, but unwilling to bother Nott. Unwilling to go downstairs and deal with the crowd that keeps congratulating them and trying to talk to him. 

A sudden knock on the door draws Caleb out of his thoughts and he turns his head expecting to see Nott. But it isn't. The door opens to reveal Molly. The tiefling leans against the doorframe, smiling their usual easy smile as they lift their hand in greeting. 

"Hey there, Caleb. How are you doing?"

He shrugs. 

Molly's smile falters a little and they move further into the room. Caleb unconsciously flinches back, scooting further towards the wall. Molly's eyes follow his movement and they stop in their tracks, not moving any closer. 

"It's alright. I don't have to come any closer right now."

Caleb stares for a long moment before nodding. He doesn't feel like being close to people right now. 

"Caleb," Molly starts, looking a little apprehensive, "I wanted to apologize for what happened in the mine. There were probably better ways to snap ya out of it, weren't there?"

He shrugs. "It's okay," he says flatly. 

Molly frowns. "Now see, I don't think it is. You've been flinching away from me all night and I....I don't want you to think-" They sigh, running a hand over their face. "I don't want to hurt you Caleb. I shouldn't have hit you in the first place."

"You were just correcting my mistake. You do not need to apologize. Master used to correct me that way."

Molly's confused expression changes into one of horror as Caleb's words begin to sink in. Their mouth opens and shuts a few times before they can finally choke out the words "Your....master?"

Caleb nods. "Yes. I make mistakes frequently. Master always had to correct them." 

Molly lets out a strangled sound and Caleb can see the aborted motion to walk towards him. Instead, they sit on the other bed across the room from him, concerned red eyes that Caleb can't bring himself to meet watching him. It takes another few moments for Molly to gather their thoughts, and when they speak Caleb can hear thinly veiled anger and distress in their tone. 

"I don't know who this "master" of yours was, but he sounds like a dick. And I'm sorry you had to go through that."

He shrugs. "It's fine."

"It's not. It's not fine at all, Caleb. No one deserves to be treated like that."

"I do."

"Not even you," they say firmly. 

Silence. 

"Life hasn't been good to you, has it?" Molly asks quietly, more to themselves than to Caleb. 

More silence. 

"You know, that's not how things are going to work here. There aren't going to be any punishments. No one is going to be too upset if you make mistakes. And if they are, at most, we'll probably just have a conversation about it. But no one is going to "correct you"." A beat. "I promise." 

Caleb chances a glance at them. "Promise?"

"I promise," they repeat, sounding sincere. "And if I break my promise, Yasha might break my knees when she finally catches up with us. She likes you, you know. She doesn't usually warm up to people this quick." 

".....okay." 

It takes a few more days for Caleb to feel completely comfortable around the tiefling again. But true to their word, nothing terrible happens, even when Caleb is sure he has done something he shouldn't have or if he accidentally annoys someone. So maybe Molly isn't lying to him. 

He takes them up on their offer to do his hair.

He doesn't flinch this time. 

-

Yasha doesn't stay with them all the time, coming and going like the storms she likes to watch. Caleb doesn't particularly like storms himself, they're pretty loud, but they make her happy. So Caleb is just happy that they make Yasha happy. Well, maybe 'happy' isn't the right word, but he's glad that his tall friend has something she likes. Yasha is always so quiet, so sullen. 

Even when she picks flowers. Though she looks a little less sad when she finds them.

Yasha likes to collect the wildflowers and keep them in her book. Caleb doesn't know why and he never asks. He gets the feeling that it is a private matter, and he doesn't want to pry. Sometimes when he's walking along and he spots a particularly pretty flower, he'll pick it and give it to her for her book. Or if she's off "Yasha-ing", as Molly calls it, he'll carefully press it in one of his own and keep it for her. 

She always seems surprised when Caleb presents her with a flower, like she doesn't understand why he's taking the time to get them for her. 

"Why do you always pick flowers for me?" she asks him one day during their watch as she carefully takes the purple flower he found and puts it in her book. 

"Because you like them," he says simply, "like Nott likes buttons and shiny things." He flips through the pages of his own book until he finds the second, bright blue flower he had been keeping. He lets out a small noise of victory. "Here!" he says, holding out the other one. 

"But you don't have to, you know?" she continues, taking the blue flower out of his hand. 

Caleb freezes, suddenly feeling very anxious and self-conscious. "Did I.....did I do something wrong? Am I not supposed to..." he trails off.

"No, no!" she says, eyes widening. "No, you did not do anything wrong. I just...you do not have to pick flowers for me. You do not have to waste time looking around for them all the time, you know. That is all." 

Caleb glances up from where he has been nervously pulling at the grass. "It is not a waste of time. You like them," he says softly, still not looking directly at Yasha. "The way Nott likes to add to her collection. They make you happy. You are my friend."

"Oh," she breathes, "I see."

They sit in silence for a moment, neither good with words and neither sure what to say to keep the conversation going. 

"Thank you," Yasha says after a moment, lightly tracing her fingers over the purple and blue flowers. "I like them. I do." Caleb smiles brightly in response, the tension leaving his body and Yasha feels the corners of her mouth tip upward at the joy in his expression. 

"You are welcome."

They both continue to stare out into the darkness surrounding their camp, falling back into a comfortable silence with Yasha cleaning and sharpening her sword while Caleb quietly works on weaving more colorful strands of ribbon into another bracelet. Their watch is nearly over when Yasha speaks again. 

"I'm collecting the flowers for Zuala," she says quietly. 

Caleb's fingers stop moving briefly as he looks over at her. "Zuala?" he asks, turning his attention back to the bracelet. 

"Yes. Zuala is.....very special to me. She liked flowers, so I am getting as many as I can to bring back to her."

"I think she will like them. Is she back home in Xhorhas?"

He sees Yasha flinch and thinks he shouldn't have asked. "No. She is gone now. She is....well, I do not know where. I do not know where they buried her. But when I find out, I will have so many flowers to bring to her. So, thank you. For helping me find pretty flowers for her." 

Caleb doesn't know what to say to this. There's nothing he can do to make this better. "I'm sorry," he says. And he is. He's very sorry that Yasha has lost this person. But if she wants to bring Zuala so many flowers, he is going to make sure they find _so many flowers_. He's rather good at finding flowers. Many years ago, he used to find flowers in the fields and the trees by his home and pick them for his mother. She was always so happy when he brought her flowers.

"My mother liked flowers, too," he blurts out before he can stop himself. 

"Your mother?"

" _Ja_."

"Is she...." Yasha doesn't finish her question, but the _is she dead too_ is heard loud and clear. 

" _Ja_ , she is gone." 

"I'm sorry," she says, and Caleb shrugs. Yasha would not be sorry if she knew why his mother is gone. "Should....should we pick flowers for your mother too?" Yasha continues. "I can help you look." 

Caleb hunches his shoulders, fingers beginning to shake as he tries to keep focusing on his bracelet project. "No," he says somewhat harshly. 

"No? But you said your mother liked flowers. We could-"

"I do not think she would want flowers from me," he whispers. There is silence, and then Caleb hears Yasha stand up and make her way over to him. She sits down next to him, close but not touching. Yasha does not touch him without permission and Caleb appreciates her consideration. Especially in this moment. 

"Why would she not want flowers from you? You are her child."

"She is dead because of me. " Beside him, Yasha inhales sharply. Caleb continues. "So no, I do not think she would want flowers from me or for me to visit. I do not even know where she is buried, if she was buried."

"We could look for her." It is an offer, one Caleb cannot accept. He shakes his head. "No...I cannot. I'm not....I am a monster. I cannot visit her." 

He feels Yasha's arm wrap around his shoulder and pull him close. For once he does not flinch, just presses as close to the large woman as he can. She doesn't say anything for a long moment, just sits there holding him. 

"I do not think you are a monster, Caleb," she assures him. 

"I followed all the rules. All of the orders, like I was supposed to," he says quietly. "If I am not monster, I would have said no. I could have said no." 

Yasha tenses next to him and holds on a bit tighter. "Did someone make you do bad things?"

"No one made me do anything. I am a bad person." What does she not understand about this? Yasha just sighs. 

"I do not think you are a bad person, Caleb," she repeats. "A bad person would not pick flowers in their free time because it makes me happy." Caleb just shrugs. "Maybe." 

The rest of their watch is uneventful. Yasha doesn't ask him any more questions about his mother and Caleb is glad. He doesn't want to talk anymore, words have become very hard. When it's time to switch places with Beau and Fjord, Yasha shoots them both a dirty look and tells them to hush when they start to question why Caleb looks so rough. He wishes he could thank her. He crawls back into his bed roll and hears Yasha do the same behind him. Caleb is just....so tired. 

As he's drifting off, he hears Yasha speak one last time. 

"You are not a monster, Caleb Widogast. And if anyone tries to tell you different I will gut them with my sword."

Days later when they stop in the next town, Yasha buys a second book to hold flowers even though her first one is not yet full. She informs him that this book of flowers will not be for Zuala, but that she will just hang onto it for now. 

"Until you are ready."

-

It starts in Zadash when he wants to look at books. 

Caleb doesn't want to talk about why he hates fire, but he really wants to go to the library. He doesn't think this a fair trade at all, but Beauregard is unmoved. Either he tells her why he is afraid of fire or he cannot go look at books. 

So he tells her, and Nott. Because he cannot tell Beauregard about this without telling Nott. 

Granted, it is a slightly edited version. He tells them that he and two other children from Blumenthal were selected to go to the Soltryce Academy. He tells them about how Ikithon saw potential in them and took them as his students, took them into the country to teach them privately. Caleb tells them that Ikithon was cruel and often made them torture and execute political prisoners, all of whom were most likely innocent people. He tells them about setting his parents house on fire and breaking. 

There is much he leaves out. 

Caleb doesn't tell them the full extent of Ikithon's cruelty. Nothing about the broken bones or being used as a demonstration for spells or interrogation techniques. Doesn't tell them about not be allowed to sleep or eat or even sit down. Doesn't tell them about the crystals that he swears he can still feel moving around, still growing and spreading, the deep scarring still causing him pain and discomfort even now. 

He doesn't tell them about the special sessions he had with Ikithon. 

But he is sure he tells them enough for them to hate him. Enough even for Nott, who has always been so kind, to finally hate him and leave him. He is fully prepared to leave and go back to living on his own. 

He does not want to be alone. 

"Caleb, man," Beau starts, looking like she wants to punch something. "You know that's fucked up, right? You were a kid." 

"I chose-"

"He groomed you. He brainwashed the three of you," she insists, becoming more frustrated. "Can't you see that?"

Caleb shifts uncomfortably, not looking at either of them. "I....I could have said no," he says, finally. "But I didn't. I could have said no."

"I don't think that's the case here, Caleb." 

Beauregard and Nott spend some time trying to convince him that nothing that happened is his fault. Nott puts her small arms around him and squeezes him tight. "I'm just going to keep telling you until you believe it." He's not sure he'll ever believe it. But he gets to look at books, and his friends don't hate him. So he can deal with the anxiety and the day and a half of time he lost after talking about all of this. But Beauregard begins to act differently afterward. And not in the way he expected her to.

Beauregard is not a soft person by nature, but it is almost as if she is trying to be. 

She doesn't raise her voice around him....much. Being loud is still very much part of her being. But she does dapple into the concept of volume control around him, which Caleb appreciates because sometimes loud voices and sounds are just too much. She is noticeably more patient with him than she is with the rest of the The Nein, but no one ever calls her on it. Whenever they pass through a place with shops she always hunts for books he might like, tossing it down in front of him with a grunt and pretending to not be embarrassed when he thanks her. 

Caleb isn't sure, but she also may have disposed of a man who _aggressively_ hit on him in a tavern one day, causing him to freeze up and panic. He swore he heard faint screams from the alley next to the tavern that she and Fjord disappeared into, but Molly told him not to worry about it and distracted him with their cards. He is still suspicious.

There is also that time when he slips again. 

He casts his spell and sends a fireball hurtling in the direction of the people attacking them. He has always had very good aim. Four people go up in flames. He tries to tell himself that it was necessary, that Beau and the others would have been seriously hurt or worse if he hadn't intervened. 

But he still slips. Trapped somewhere between the now and the then. 

Beau stays with him the whole time, her hand clutching his tightly. She sits in the cart with him, not saying anything but being a steady, grounding presence until he's able to come back from wherever his mind wanders. 

"You back with us?" she asks, bumping her shoulder against his.

"N-No fires," he croaks, still not fully present, but at least able to respond. 

"No fires," she agrees. 

The two of them camp away from the rest of The Nein that night, away from the campfire. She stays awake all night after he finally falls asleep. 

-

When they are on the Squall Eater, Fjord spends the night with Avantika. Caleb can tell he is feeling conflicted about it. He doesn't think Fjord really _wanted_ to sleep with the slightly homicidal elf woman, but did so because he felt like he had to. Caleb understands why he would think that, why Fjord would do that. Before he met Nott on the road, and many times during the years before that, he did what he had to. Sometimes it had been easier to just....give in. 

He isn't sure why he tells Fjord this, one night when it's just the two of them. He doesn't even know how they get onto this topic. But this is what you're supposed to do when something is bothering your friends, right? Let them know that they can talk to you. 

Fjord startles at his admission, head jerking to look at him, yellow eyes wide. 

"W-What?"

Caleb blinks. "I said I understand. It sucks. I never liked it either. I would offer to let you pet my cat, Frumpkin always makes me feel better, but you are somehow allergic to him even though he is a fey and not a _cat-cat._ " He is rambling now, the weight of his confession finally hitting him and he can feel the beginning of an anxious spiral. "But I am used to it after many years and you are not, so I imagine it might be a little worse for you. I am sorry."

"Many years?"

Caleb shrugs. "It is something that happened. I am fine now. I try not to think about it." His eyes are wide and he can feel himself shaking slightly, his heart racing. But Caleb is fine. He is _fine._ He can deal with this. 

Fjord, however, looks....very distressed and concerned. "Caleb that's....that's not something you just wake up and get over one day. That's, I mean, you said _years._ I'm- I'm so sorry." The half-orc's fists are clenched tightly. 

Caleb tilts his head. "Why are you apologizing? You didn't do anything."

"Because you shouldn't have had to go through that."

"I am sure some people have had it worse, _ja_? I mean, I am here. I am fine. So it's fine." He begins to tug at his hair nervously. It has grown out even more now, nearly as long as he wore it when he was a child. Sometimes when he was anxious, he used to braid it. It gave him something to focus on. But now his hands are too shaky, fingers too clumsy. 

"Yeah, that's not how this works. Nothing is better or worse than anything else."

Caleb doesn't respond, just continues to anxiously messing with his hair. He very much regrets this conversation. He should learn when to shut up. Is Fjord mad at him? His tone sounds angry....or maybe it doesn't. Caleb isn't always so good with tone or facial expressions. Maybe he overshared and Fjord really had no interest in any of it. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to talk to Fjord at all. Maybe-

"Do you want help with that?" Fjord asks quietly.

Caleb jumps. " _Was?_ I don't- help with what?" he replies nervously. 

"Your hair. You've been messing with it for a while now. And I, well, I don't know much about hair. But I've seen Jester braid a few times. I know that sometimes when she's stressed, she likes to do her hair."

Caleb considers it for a moment, looking down at his trembling hands before looking back up at Fjord. He also likes having his hair done when he is stressed. He hasn't had anyone touch his hair since his mother...

"Okay," he says softly. 

Fjord gets up and moves behind him, taking a seat. He feels the half-orc's fingers begin to gently move through his hair, untangling the knots that he had accidentally made worse with all his nervous tugging. His pace is slow, and there is a lot of cursing and unbraiding and re-braiding at first, but Fjord finally finds his rhythm. Some of it feels too tight, some too lose, but Caleb enjoys the feeling nonetheless. He isn't sure how long he sits there, Fjord braiding his hair and humming something that must be a sea shanty, but when Fjord is done he feels a lot calmer. 

"Thank you, Fjord," he says, pronouncing the J. Fjord doesn't correct him this time. 

"Anytime, Caleb."

-

"CAY-LEB! I DIDN'T KNOW YOU LIKED TO DRAW! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!?"

Normally, Caleb would jump when Jester pops up behind him like this, but this time Caleb saw her coming. The tiefling plops herself down next to him in the grass, sitting at what would have been uncomfortably close many weeks before, but he is starting to become more accustomed to her presence. Caleb truly doesn't mind her coming to sit with him ....as long as she doesn't doodle in his books. 

Jester has gotten better at not doodling in his books. 

Caleb looks up from where he himself had been drawing in his book. But that is different because they are _his_ books and he is allowed to draw whatever he wants in them. And his drawings are definitely not dicks or googly eyes or hamster unicorns. 

She rests her chin on his shoulder and tries to peek at his work. He instinctually tilts the book away from her line of sight. 

"Cay-leb~! What are you drawing! Show me!" she pouts, making grabby hands at the book. 

"I ah...why do you want to know?" 

"Because! No one else in this group likes to draw. And!" she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, "if you show me yours, I'll show you mine."

Caleb thinks this is an innuendo. Caleb also thinks that she is joking because Jester can turn anything into a dirty joke. He has gotten better at recognizing jokes. "Come on, Cay-leb! It will be fun. Look, I'll go first, okay?" 

The tiefling rummages through her back until she pulls out her slightly worn leather sketchbook. She rapidly flips through the pages until she comes across the drawing she must be looking for. "Okay, okay, okay. This," she gestures at the open page with a huge smile on her face, "is my newest work! It it all of us, but instead of us having tiny pet hamster unicorns, we are all have hamster unicorns that are big enough to ride!"

Caleb blinks as he stares at the page. He had never imagined himself on a hamster unicorn before. But he must admit, Jester did capture his likeness rather well. Still, he cannot understand her obsession with these creatures. 

"That is....very cute Jester." 

She beams with pride. 

"Okay. Now you! What are you drawing! Can I see?" Jester is practically bouncing in excitement. 

Caleb glances back down at his own sketch and frowns. This is not nearly as happy as an afternoon ride with friends on hamster unicorn. It is not happy at all. But Jester has shown him one of her sketches, so it is only fair that he allows her to see his. Reluctantly, he hands the book over to her. Caleb watches as the initial excitement at being allowed to see his work begins to fade, and is replaced by confusion, shock, and mild horror in rapid succession. 

"Cay-leb? What is this?" she asks, looking at him with big eyes. 

The sketch is of a little boy in a dark room, surrounded by giant, shadow-like monsters with no wear to run. No wear to hide. He knew it was not a happy sketch, but she had asked to see what he was drawing. 

Caleb shrugs. "A sketch."

"But why would you draw this?"

Another shrug.

Jester looks between him and the drawing a few times before her expression turns sad. "Cay-leb, is this boy supposed to be you?" she asks, softly. 

Caleb is suddenly very uncomfortable. He isn't quite sure how to answer this question. To be completely honest, he isn't sure why he decided to draw this. Sometimes he just gets feelings he doesn't understand and puts them on paper. So many people can just talk about their feelings, but Caleb has never been able to do so. Not without serious struggle. "I....ah, I don't know. Maybe. It's just a drawing, Jester." 

"It is a very sad drawing. Are you sad, Cay-leb? Because sometimes I think you're just very, very sad. But you don't ever talk about it. You can talk about it, you know!"

He blinks. "I... _was?"_

"We are family, Cay-leb. And if you are sad you can tell us. You can talk to any of us. Even Beau! Because if you don't tell us we can't help you. So if it feels like you're surrounded by monsters, or if there are like, actual monsters after you, we have to know this so we can punch them for you."

"I do not think it's that simple."

"Hmm, maybe not. But you don't have to deal with the monsters on your own anymore," she says, tapping her finger on his drawing. "Okay?"

"Ah....okay?" It comes out as more of a question, and he thinks Jester is still pleased by his answer. "Can I hug you?" she asks, holding her arms open expectantly. Caleb thinks for a moment.

" _Ja,_ that is fine."

Caleb has an armful of little blue tiefling and surprisingly.....the hug makes him feel a little better.

-

"You're up awfully late, Mr. Caleb."

"I cannot sleep," he mumbles from where he's slumped against the boulder, eyes heavy and body tense. 

"Can't sleep, or don't want to sleep?" the firbolg asks, coming to sit down beside him. 

The thing about Caduceus is that he is extremely observant and insightful. It's nearly impossible to keep things from him, and Caleb always feels like everything he is on display before the cleric. In the beginning, Caleb had not known what to think of the strange new edition to their group. He had certainly been grateful to have found him, what with Molly being on the brink of death after their fight with Lorenzo. 

(Caleb shudders at the memory. He does not want to think of that day.)

Herr Clay had healed him, and then agreed to join them on their journey to rescue their other friends. And to continue to travel with them afterward. Partially because the firbolg had wanted to, and partially because he is searching for a cure for the curse that is encroaching on the cemetery. 

_But also because he seemed so very lonely,_ Caleb thinks. 

He is somewhat strange, talking to grass and beetles and seaweed and whatnot, but he is kind, and honest, and caring. And Caleb cannot bring himself to dislike Herr Clay, even if he makes him nervous sometimes with how perceptive he is. 

"The second one."

"Makes sense. You've been avoiding sleep for a few days now. I'm starting to wonder how you're managing to keep yourself upright."

"I've gone longer without sleep, Herr Clay. This is nothing." And it's true, he has gone days and days without sleep. So long that he could no longer tell what was real and what was a sleep deprivation induced hallucination. Ikithon was very thorough in his training. 

The firbolg hums thoughtfully. "Nightmares?"

Caleb shrugs. 

"Three days ago you woke up screaming, something about "take them out". Now I don't want to pry, but it seems that you stopped sleeping right after. And I know it might be uncomfortable, but sometimes talking about these things makes it a little more bearable."

"I....I d-don't....I don't know what-" 

Caduceus smiles. "It's alright, Mr. Caleb. I'm not saying that you have to talk to me, just extending the offer."

They sit in silence for a while, Caduceus sipping his tea and staring out into the night, Caleb forcing himself to keep his eyes open, too terrified to sleep. He isn't sure what possesses him, maybe it's the lack of sleep clouding his judgment and getting rid of his filter, but he starts talking. 

"I can still feel them sometimes."

"Hm?" 

"In my arms, I can still feel them moving. They're not there anymore, but sometimes I imagine they are and they burn. It hurts," he confesses, rubbing at his arms that he has covered in bandages. "They have been hurting more lately."

Caduceus is looking at him with concern know, eyes honing in on his bandages like he's trying to look through them. "Is there something in your arms, Mr. Caleb?"

He shakes his head. " _Nein._ No. Not any more. At least I hope there is nothing still in them. I think it is just.....phantom pain? That is what it is called, _ja_? Or maybe it's actual pain. The person who did it was not a physician. I am not sure." 

The firbolg nods, still eyeing him and his arms with concern. "You have lingering pain from something.....being inside your arms?" Caduceus doesn't ask the question outright, but Caleb can tell he wants to know. Wants to know what was inside of him that is affecting him like this. 

"I ah, it was many years ago. My friends and I were, young. Someone was ah, trying to see if they could make magic more powerful. And it involved putting things inside of us. It hurt a lot, but they were removed eventually."

"When you were a _child_?" the cleric asks, looking rightfully horrified. 

"Ah, _ja._ That is correct." 

Caduceus gives him a long look, his expression unreadable, before he sighs. "Well, let's see them, then," the firbolg says, gesturing to Caleb's arms. Caleb flinches, pulling them tighter to his body. 

"But there is nothing in there anymore, Herr Clay."

"Maybe not. But I can at least try to make the pain more manageable. It might make resting easier. You said they've been bothering you more lately, right?"

Caleb nodded. " _Ja,_ they have been." They ache right now. They ache so badly. 

Reluctantly, Caleb allows Caduceus to cast a healing spell on his arms. The pain doesn't go away, not completely, but it does reduce it to more of a dull, manageable ache. Dull enough to possibly sleep through. To not trigger another dream. 

"There we are. How does that feel, Mr. Caleb?"

"Better. Thank you, Herr Clay."

The firbolg smiles, patting him on the shoulder. "Don't mention it. Now how about I make you some tea to help calm your nerves a bit, and you try to get some rest? We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow and it's not going to do you any good to miss another night of sleep." 

"I....will try, yes." 

"Good! That's good, Mr. Caleb." 

Caleb drinks the tea that the cleric gives him, and whatever is in it definitely does seem to have a calming affect on him. His eyes begin to drift shut and he nearly drops the cup. Eventually, the cleric shuffles him over to his bedroll and tucks him in like he's a child. Caleb is too tired to care. 

"You get some rest now. I'll be here."

-

Beau's hand is on his back, it's comforting. Normally he doesn't like people touching his back, but he trusts Beau. Nott scoots to his other side and holds his trembling hand in her small, clawed one. Maybe she's not mad at him anymore, he thinks, remembering the way she yelled at him in the ruins of the Brenatto apothecary. They already know part of what he's going to say, and they did not completely hate him afterward. The others also know tiny bits and pieces of his past from private conversations. Not as much as Nott or Beauregard, but some things. 

Molly, who is sitting crossed legged in front of him, scoots up so their legs are touching. Yasha, Fjord, Jester, and Caduceus move in a little closer, but not enough to crowd him more than he already is. Just close enough to let him know they were there. 

"Your name was Veth. My name was.... Bren Aldric Ermendrud. Was." he starts. He sees Nott- Veth?....sees her look at him in shock. Caleb remembers that he told her he didn't have a name. He feels bad for lying to her. But he can't worry about that now. They're all staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue his story. Wanting to know how he is connected to the Cerberus Assembly, wanting to know what he knows. 

"Take your time, Mr. Caleb," comes Caduceus' deep rumble, "that was a lot of questions. Answer as you can." The firbolg gives him a reassuring smile and Caleb tries to smile back, but it comes out as more of a pained grimace. 

Caleb doesn't think he can take his time. After he starts talking about...everything...he's not sure he'll be able to stop. Because if he stops, he might not be able to start back up again. This might be one of those times when you just have to "rip the bandage off in one go", as the say. (He's actually not sure, he's not very good at figures of speech.)

So he talks. 

More than he has in a very long time. 

He tells them about the first time he discovered his magic. Something to the effect of "The first time I used magic I was pushing that boy from school off me". He honestly doesn't remember much of what he said, just that he said it.

He tells them about how he and Astrid and Eodwulf were brought to the Soltryce Academy when they were about twelve years old. About how after studying for only a few months, Ikithon found him, and all three of them were taken to the countryside to be taught privately by him.

Caleb tells them about the broken bones, the injuries, being used as a demonstration for spells. About the basement and everything the three of them had to do down there in the dark. 

He tells them about the crystals that _are definitely not still in his arms but he can feel them and sometimes he wants to rip his skin off._

He tells him about his special sessions with Ikithon.

About the fire, his parents. The asylum. 

When he is done, Nott and Jester are crying. Beauregard, Fjord, and Yasha all have to storm away from the group, which makes him anxious for a split second. Molly slowly slips into the spot that Beau was occupying and pulls Caleb into a tight hug. 

"Don't you worry, Mr. Caleb," Caduceus reassures him, a large hand on his shoulder and voice unusually hard, "they're not mad at you. They just need to blow off some steam." 

"I did not mean to upset them," he mumbles into Molly's shoulder. 

Molly shushes him. "It's not your fault, Caleb. When they get back they can tell you that themselves."

_It feels like it is my fault._

"You all do not hate me?" he asks in a small voice. He feels Jester hug him from behind, pinning him between the two tieflings. 

"Of course not, Cay-leb! We could never hate you. Not for any of this. None of this was your fault, you know that? I know you don't think so, but none of it is your fault." 

"She's right, you know," Nott sniffs, still cuddled into Caleb's side, "all of those horrible things...that wasn't you."

_But it was._

"I can tell that your brain is going a mild a minute, Mr. Caleb. You probably don't believe a single thing we're saying to you right now. But that's alright, these things take time. And we've all got plenty of time to keep reminding you that you aren't at fault here. For any of it. None of us are going anywhere, and neither are you." 

"Promise?"

It slips out before he can stop it and Gods he feels like such a child for saying it. 

Molly's arms tighten around him, as do Jester and Nott's. Caduceus scoots closer to the group and puts his arms around everyone. Caleb can't remember the last time he felt...safe. Is this what that feels like?

"We promise, Caleb," Molly says, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "We aren't going to leave you."

"Okay." 


	4. The Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb's encounter with Ikithon in the throne room sends him on a downward spiral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize the tower did not make an appearance until after the episodes mentioned in this fic but just....go with it? This is fanfiction not canon! Also, is anyone else just so tired of Caleb not getting the comfort and affection and reassurance he deserves from the rest of the M9?

It starts that day in the throne room.

Caleb hadn't expected Ikithon to be there, hadn't planned on ever seeing him again if he could help it. But there he had stood among those who had been gathered to speak with The Mighty Nein. The same robes, same sallow face, same haughty expression, same _smile._ A smile that had grown wider when his cold eyes had landed on Caleb, looking him up and down.

If he thought hard enough he could almost feel hands on him. A shudder coursed through his body and of course, Ikithon had noticed, the older man's eyes having never drifted from him and Caleb had seen the amusement that was present on his face. 

Caleb had felt like he was going to be sick.

It made his skin crawl and his fingers had subconsciously started scratching at his arms beneath the bandages. 

He had wanted to scream, to run, to do literally anything besides stand there where Ikithon could look at him. Caleb had wanted to escape the knowing look and the ghostly hands he could feel on his body, but he couldn't. They had been in a meeting with the king, he wouldn't have been excused so easily. And even if he had tried to run he doubts he could have made it far without collapsing. He could feel his whole body shaking, his legs ready to give out at any moment. 

Caleb couldn't _breathe._

Ikithon had known it was him from the moment he stepped into the room. But of course he would have known. Caleb shouldn't have expected anything less of the man, he had been foolish to hope that his old teacher would not have recognized him. Foolish to hope that he could hide from this man forever. 

He tried to just focus on the conversation happening around him but his breathing had grown more uneven, bordering on hyperventilating. 

The meeting went on for so long. Hours, minutes, Caleb wasn't able to keep track. He could never keep track of time around Trent. But it must have ended at some point because Ikithon was no longer on the dais, he was _right there looking at Caleb and talking and he still couldn't breathe._ Because even with Jester in front of him, Beau and Molly on either side, Nott growling angrily as she clung to his legs, Fjord with his hand resting on Caleb's lower comfortingly, and Yasha and Caduceus standing close behind him, he still felt exposed. 

_Especially you, Bren._

**_Especially you, Bren._ **

He couldn't....he can't...

"Easy, darlin'. Just take a deep breath," Fjord had whispered from behind him then, drawing him out of his thoughts as one arm was wrapped around his waist holding him close while he rubbed Caleb's arm soothingly with his free hand. The half-orc was taking exaggerated breaths, attempting to get Caleb to mimic him. "You're safe, I've got you." 

"Should I kill him?" Yasha had asked, hand drifting towards her greatsword. 

_"Yes."_

"Shush! We can't say stuff like that here in the open, you guys!"

"Maybe we should move this conversation somewhere else?" Caduceus cut in, eyeing Caleb from where he stood, "someplace we can....relax." 

Caleb doesn't remember much after that, just waking up the next day squished between Fjord and Molly with Nott sleeping on his legs, head pounding and vision blurry. 

"Hey there," Fjord said quietly, already awake and trying not to disturb the others. 

"H-Hey," Caleb whispered back, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the morning light filtering in through the curtains. 

The half-orc brushed a stray curl out of his face. "How are you doing?"

"I....." he paused, "really do not know."

Fjord hummed, still running his fingers through Caleb's hair. "Okay. That's okay." He felt Molly's arms tighten around him and heard Nott mumble something sleepily. 

Caleb wasn't sure anything was actually okay. 

-

It gets worse with the arrival of a letter addressed to "Bren" some weeks later. 

A harried looking messenger delivers it directly to him as they exit Vess DeRogna's tower, placing it in his hands before quickly making their way back to wherever they came from. Caleb doesn't have to open the envelope to know where the letter has come from. There is only one person in Rexxentrum that would actively be seeking him out. Only one person who would address him as Bren and not as Caleb, the name he has actively been using in public during his time in this city.

_And he would know that looping handwriting anywhere..._

"Cayyyy-leb! Who sent you a letter? What does it say?" Jester exclaims, standing on her tiptoes and making grabby-hands towards the high quality parchment clutched tightly in his shaking hands. Reflexively he jerks away, not allowing the tiefling the chance to grab it from him. 

"It is nothing," he replies tersely, shoving it into his coat pocket.

"It didn't look like _nothing_ ," comes Beau's voice from his left. The monk is standing there with her arms folded as she looks at him expectantly, glancing at the pocket in which he has shoved the letter into and then back up to his face. 

"It. Is. Nothing," he grinds out, a hot wave of anger bubbling up inside of him out of no where.

Veth worries her lower lip with her teeth. "But Caleb, who would be trying to reach you here of all places? The only people who know you here are-"

"I said it is NOTHING!"

"Caleb-"

Before he fully understands what he is doing, Caleb turns and begins walking away from the rest of The Nein at a brisk pace, ignoring their calls for him to come back as he quickly tries to disappear into the crowds of people roaming Rexxentrum. A few times he thinks they almost catch up, but he manages to slip away, eventually finding a relatively quiet corner of the city with only a few people milling about. 

He collapses in an alleyway and vomits.

He doesn't understand why he felt the need to run. There was no reason to run from his friends, or snap at them. Caleb is definitely going to have to apologize to Veth. He has never once yelled at Veth, even when she has yelled at him. Caleb doesn't want her to be angry with him.

Bad things always happen when people are angry with him. 

But when he saw the letter his body told him to run and he could not stop himself. He just needed to _get away._ Get away from what, he isn't sure. But standing in that spot in that moment with the heavy parchment in his hand, he felt like he might die. And so he had to run. 

When the dry heaves finally stop he falls back against the wall, shaking and panting, eyes red and stinging from crying. 

_Huh._

Caleb reaches up and touches his cheek, feeling the wetness on his fingers. 

He didn't even realize he had been crying. 

-

He opens the letter.

It is an invitation to dinner tomorrow night with Ikithon, Astrid, and Wulf.

_A family dinner._

Caleb gets through precisely one half of it before he throws up again.

-

They do find him eventually, sitting in the same spot he's been for hours with his knees drawn up to his chest, eyes still red and puffy. 

There's a few moments of panic and shouting as Veth forces him to sit still as she and Yasha methodically check him for injuries. Satisfied that he seems physically okay, she throws her arms around in a tight hug. Caleb flinches, not really having it in him to hug her or tolerate her affection, but also not wanting to upset her by pushing her away. 

He sees Beauregard crouch down next to him with a hand raised and for one brief moment Caleb is convinced the monk is going to punch him. But she just drops a heavy hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. 

"Don't you fucking do that again. Got it?" she hisses, looking annoyed and pissed off but also a little....worried? 

_"J-Ja,"_ he whispers, looking everywhere but her eyes. 

A sigh. "Good." 

-

He casts the tower right there in the alley despite everyone's protests. He doesn't feel safe staying at an Inn. 

They relent when he says that out loud. 

He barely manages to make it through the ritual and nearly falls back over when he tries to stand up. Fjord steadies him and insists on helping him to his bedroom. Even though he normally doesn't like people in his room in the tower, Caleb finds that he is too exhausted to protest this time. The half-orc gently sits him down on the rather uncomfortable looking cot pushed against the wall of the darkened room. 

"Why don't you take a nap or something? Cad said he was gonna make dinner. We can wake you up when it's ready."

"Okay."

Caleb waits until Fjord has left the room to fall over on his side, curling up in the fetal position. 

Much like he did during the eleven years he spent in this room. 

-

"Lebby? Caduceus made dinner, do you want to come downstairs and eat?"

Veth is perched on the bed next to him, her small hand shaking his shoulder. 

_When did she get here?_

_"Nein."_

Veth clucks her tongue in disapproval, eyes narrowing as she takes in his pale face and trembling form beneath the blanket. 

"Are you feeling sick? You're not sick, are you? You never tell me these things," she scolds, moving her hand from his shoulder and resting it on his forehead. She pauses. "Hmm, you don't feel warm." Nott takes her hand off his forehead and brushes more of his hair back from his face. "What's going on, Caleb?" 

He blinks blearily at her. "I am just tired, Nott. I am fine."

The halfling frowns, the worry evident on her face. "You are most certainly not fine. You're curled up in your bed shaking and you look like death warmed over. And earlier you just....just ran off! Tell me what's wrong." She's using that no-nonsense tone that reminds Caleb so much of his own mother and he flinches violently at the sudden pang of sadness and loss in his chest. He misses his mother. 

_He doesn't deserve to miss his mother._

"Caleb?"

He can feel his eyes burning, vision beginning to blur. "I.....am fine," he chokes out, turning away from her. 

"Caleb, please..."

Silence.

Veth lingers for a few more moments before he feels her slide off the bed and quietly make her way out the door, shutting it behind her with a soft click. 

He doesn't let himself cry until her steps have long faded away.

-

"I brought you some tea," Caduceus says some time later. Caleb didn't even realize the cleric had come into the room. He hears the Firbolg place the cup on the table next to his bed. "How are you feeling? Veth said you were a little ah, unwell." 

"I am fine." His voice sounds hollow even to his own ears. 

"You know, it's okay to not be fine. We can't all be okay every moment of our lives. And you, well, I'm no expert, but I don't think this or what happened earlier qualifies as being _fine_." He flinches and Caduceus sighs. "What I'm trying to say Mr. Caleb, is that I know this city isn't a good place for you and it's obvious to all of us that something spooked you. And we....we just want to help you. But we can't do that if you won't tell us what's wrong."

_He shouldn't bother them with his problems. He can handle it._

Caleb feels Caduceus' large hand squeeze his shoulder.

"Just think about it, okay? Send Frumpkin or one of the cats if you need me."

"I....okay." 

"Good, that's good." 

Caleb is facing away from the firbolg, but he can still picture the soft smile that usually accompanies that tone. The cleric gives his shoulder another gentle squeeze before he turns to leave.

-

It's funny, Caleb thinks, how a piece of paper is enough to turn him into a complete mess. 

-

It is 10:35. Or 36. No, maybe 11:36? Time is very hard and that is never a good sign. He always knows what time it is. Counting the hours, minutes, and seconds of each day is comforting in a way that he can never quite explain to another person. But right now all the numbers aren't making sense in his brain. 

So it is _maybe_ 36 minutes past the 23rd hour of the day when Fjord knocks lightly on his door before stepping inside. 

"Caleb?"

_Please go away._

"I...brought you some pastries? Jester was determined to bring 'em up here herself and Beau was gonna join her but I figured the two of them might be a little.... _much_ right now." Caleb is turned away from the door but he can hear the half-orc shifting awkwardly. He really wants to turn over and reply to Fjord. He _knows_ that it is the proper thing to do. He has a list of how you are supposed to maintain friendships. Responding to people when they talk to you and making eye contact while doing it is on that list, though he's never been good at either.

But the effort is just....too much. Just the thought of moving is exhausting.

"I also told her you aren't feelin' well and probably can't even stomach 'em, but she's determined. They're from some fancy bakery she found or somethin'." 

Fjord is rambling now, trying to fill in the silence in a way that Caleb can't bring himself to. And even in this....state.....he still finds the half-orc's voice and presence somewhat soothing. 

"I'll uh, just put these next to the tea. Don't feel obligated to eat them or anything." He hears the soft sound of the plate being set down. "Did you need this warmed up? It looks like you haven't touched it yet and Cad was up here a while ago."

Caleb swallows. It takes quite a bit of effort, but he manages to force out a soft "N-No." 

Suddenly he feels the blankets being moved and Caleb jumps, only to relax when Fjord shushes him as he continues to adjust the blankets around him. "You're shakin' like a leaf. Don't want you to be cold," he murmurs, tucking him in tightly before reaching down to pull up the extra blanket as well. "Better?"

_"Ja..."_

_Why are you being so kind to me?_

"Good." He smoothes his hands over the blankets one last time before straightening up. "D'ya need anything else?" 

"I....no. No. I am fine." 

Fjord huffs. "Yeah, I don't think so. But I'll let you win this time."

Caleb doesn't know what to say to this, so he doesn't say anything. He hears Fjord moving towards the door and expects him to leave, so he is surprised when the half-orc speaks again. 

"Hey, Caleb?"

_"Ja?"_

"You know you can tell us anything, right? You can come to us with things. I don't.... _we_ don't mind. We'd rather you talk to us than..." he trails off.

_Be useless Be a burden that everyone has to take care of of? Slow everyone down?_

"You're not alone anymore, Caleb." 

_He should be._

_He's a monster._

-

He is too exhausted to sleep, if such a thing is possible. 

He stares at the wall until the sun comes up. 

-

It's not fair, he thinks as he curls up on his side under his blankets, that even though it is _his_ magic tower the door doesn't seem to listen to him when he thinks "lock".

Maybe it's because his casting is not as good as he likes to think it is. Or maybe it's because logically he knows he has no real reason to lock the doors. No one except himself and the rest of The Mighty Nein have access to this tower. Caleb doesn't have to worry about anyone strange wandering into his room when he least expects it. He doesn't have to worry about anyone coming in at night to-

_Don't think about it._

Sure, the other members of The Nein have occasionally let themselves into his room at taverns and inns without asking for permission, had made themselves at home in the tent he was sleeping in, but that is _The Nein._ That's a completely different situation than anything that has occurred in the past. Normally they burst in to inform him of something important or to share something exciting that happened. More often than not it is one of them coming in to check on him after he's been holed up by himself for an extended period of time, whether it's because he's lost in a book or in his head, they always come to check. 

It is very annoying. Sometimes to the point where he wants to throw things at them and scream at them to get out, but he doesn't because he is an adult, thank you. 

It's just The Nein, anyway. Veth, Mollymauk, Fjord, Jester, Beauregard, Yasha, Caduceus. He can get over it, he can make exceptions for these people...... _sometimes._ Caleb knows that he is not in any real danger should one of them burst into his room. And maybe, _maybe,_ Caleb doesn't hate sharing space with them as much as he hates it with everyone else. Perhaps he has grown to enjoy their company more than he ever thought he would. 

But right now he wishes that the door to his room would _just lock and everyone would leave him alone but it won't lock and they keep checking on him and wanting to know what's wrong and he doesn't know-_

"Caleb?" 

The door to his room creaks open and he flinches as Molly steps inside, tugging the blankets up over his head and curling up tighter. 

There's a soft sigh. "Caleb." The tiefling walks over to the bed and Caleb can sense them standing close, but not touching him or the bed. "Can I sit here?" they ask. 

Caleb shrugs which, considering the fact that he is hiding under a blanket, probably means nothing to Molly as they cannot see him. 

"Can you use your words, sweetheart? I don't want to sit if you're not comfortable."

He opens and his closes his mouth a few times, the words not wanting to form on his tongue. " _J-Ja_ ," he whispers, voice hoarse. 

"Okay."

Caleb feels the bed dip as Molly takes a seat near the edge of the bed, still trying not to crowd him. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a hand land on his shoulder, a small distressed sound escaping his lips before he could stop it. Molly's hand jerks back from him immediately and he feels the tiefling shift away as far they could without falling off the bed. 

"Not a touching kind of day?"

He nods before realizing that he's still hidden under his blanket and forces out another reply. _"Nein."_

"Okay, that's fine." 

They sit in silence for a little bit until the tiefling begins to speak. "You've been holed up in here since last night. You haven't even eaten anything. Veth is worried." _I am worried, we're all worried,_ is what Mollymauk means but doesn't say. The message is still conveyed clearly. "What's going on in that head of yours, Mr. Caleb?"

A lot. 

A lot that he doesn't really have the words to describe. Sometimes he is jealous of the way that other people can just....talk about how they are feeling. Other people can sit down and say ' _this is what I'm feeling and this is why I'm feeling it'_ like it's the most natural thing in the world. Caleb doesn't understand it one bit. He knows when he feels good, he knows when he feels bad (and right now is one of those times when he is definitely feeling _bad_ bad), he knows when he is upset or afraid. Those basic feelings he understands. But the problem is, everyone always wants the _why._

What's wrong, Caleb?

Why are you so angry, Caleb?

Is something bothering you?

Why won't you eat or get out of bed, Caleb?

 _He doesn't fucking know why._ If he knew why he did the things he did, don't they think he would be the first to tell them and try to stop it? Caleb is not stupid, he knows that there are probably reasons that he is so upset and does not want to get out of bed. But trying to pinpoint an exact cause or cause is just so....hard. There are so many feelings- _too many feelings_ -and it's all just _too much._

It's easier sometimes to just....not think about them. To not try and dig too deep into his thoughts and memories. But then again it doesn't really matter, does it, when they call come exploding out anyway no matter how hard he tries to not think about things. 

And how is he not supposed to think about things with that letter sitting on the nightstand next to him, inviting him to-

"I do not want to go," he whispers before he can stop himself. 

Caleb feels Molly perk up a bit. "Where are you supposed to go? I didn't think we had decided what we were doing next, yet."

"He said he wants to see me again...." 

A pause. "Who?"

"He said to come home. It will be like a family reunion. And that...he is proud of me."

" _Who_?" Molly presses, their tone sounding more urgent. "Who wants you to come home?" 

Caleb shudders. "M-Master Ikithon. He sent a letter." He hears Molly violently cursing in Infernal. The tiefling takes a moment to compose themselves, Caleb can hear them taking a deep, calming breath. 

"Was that the letter the boy brought you yesterday? Was that why you ran?"

_"J-Ja."_

A beat. 

"I....really d-do not want to go, Mollymauk. Please do not make me go." 

"Of course you're not going," Molly soothes, keeping their voice soft. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I do not want to see him."

"We won't let him near you." 

"I am....so tired, Molly."

There's a sharp intake a breath before they respond. "I know, love. I know. But we'll figure this out."

_But what if they can't._

_-_

Molly stays a little longer, just long enough for Caleb to calm down a bit and fall into a restless sleep. Quietly, they reach over the sleeping mage and snatch the letter from the beside table before quickly exiting the room. 

-

The Nein decide to stay at in Inn during their last night in Rexxentrum after an unspoken agreement that Caleb shouldn't overexert himself in an attempt to recast the tower. They can deal with taking turns staying up to keep watch. 

Ideally they would have preferred to hightail it out of there immediately after finally seeing the contents of the letter, but Caleb seems so worn down and sick that they don't want to risk taking off without at least trying to improve his condition. One more night in this place and then they can confidently say that they will never be returning. Not anytime soon, at least.

None of them are sure how Ikithon is going to react to being stood up. So far, Caduceus has had to cast Calm Person on Caleb twice the closer it gets to the designated time on the invitation. It gets to the point where they almost say "fuck it" and take off. A few hours of sleep isn't worth stressing Caleb out this bad, especially since the entire reason for resting at the Inn was an attempt to get him rested and ready for their travels. 

But eventually the time on the invitation comes and passes, there is no sign of Ikithon. There's no sign of any scrying attempts or scourgers at their door. They breathe a collective sigh of relief, but don't get too comfortable. 

The night is young and Ikithon could change his mind at any moment. 

But they are all ready to defend their friend if they have to. 

-

"We could leave, you know," Veth tells him, forcing herself to sound cheerful and upbeat as she rubs comforting circles on Caleb's back. 

"We could go to a whole new continent, you, me, Luc and Yeza, and just start over. No more adventuring, no more Cerberus Assembly. Just.....leave all of this here. I hear Tal'Dorei is nice." 

Caleb shrugs, staring at the same spot on the wall he's been looking at for hours. 

"And it's not so far that the rest of these lunatics couldn't visit. I mean, we were pirates! Fjord and Orly can just sail them all over. Or, or we could just go back to Xhorhas? It's very dark there and I honestly don't think you would do well in constant darkness, but Essek is there and you like Essek, right? I mean, you definitely _like_ Essek. Anyone with eyes can see that. Almost as much you like Fjord," she pauses, "I would kind of like to see that fight- but anyway! You could be wizard pals."

Veth looks at him hopefully, waiting for a response and hiding her disappointment when it doesn't even get a grunt of acknowledgement out of Caleb. 

"I don't think Yeza would like it very much either if I'm being honest, but he's an adaptable man. And Luc.....Luc would probably just think it's another adventure and shoot the neighbors in the ass with his crossbow. Probably annoy them more than the brightly lit tree we added to the neighborhood, but it would be funny. We could also just settle in Nicodranas? It's rather close to the empire but we could find a way to blend in." 

Caleb can barely keep up with what Veth is saying, only catching every other word. It sounds like the woman is talking to him from somewhere far away and nothing is making sense. He wishes he had words for her, that he could keep up with a simple conversation, but he's just....so tired. It feels like he's existing in a fog. His movements are sluggish and clumsy, even keeping his eyes open is a chore. 

Veth bites her lip, hand still rubbing circles on his back. "I wish you would tell me how to help you."

_Just let me die._

"I love you, Caleb. You know that right? I....we all love you very much and just want to help." 

_You should not._


End file.
